


to be afraid is a luxury

by trustmeimthe



Category: Curse Workers Series - Holly Black
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5788435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustmeimthe/pseuds/trustmeimthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kissing lila was supposed to be a joke. it wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to be afraid is a luxury

**Author's Note:**

> written to [god's gonna see you comin'](http://8tracks.com/bloodiedteeth/god-s-gonna-see-you-comin). this is mostly for crystal.

She smells like bubblegum when they kiss.

That's the surprising part - not the kiss itself, but the way she smells and tastes like bubblegum, how there's only the barest trace of fancy French perfume and cigarettes but the overwhelming flavor is bubblegum, so strong and distinct it tastes like pink. It's such a girlish thing that it makes Daneca start, makes something twist and bounce in her stomach.

Kissing Lila was supposed to be a joke, a dare, proof - it was supposed to define her as impossible, unattainable. She saw Lila looking at her mouth, undisguised and unapologetic the way that Lila does everything, and she'd had half a glass of white wine but she knew she wasn't a lightweight, not like that, so she shouldn't feel all fluttery just from that, just from a look, just from _intent_. Except she's seen Lila kiss people (boys) from the outside, and it looked like conquest, and she was simultaneously excited and terrified to be on the receiving end of that.

Does she want to be conquered? She doesn't know. Probably not; she's always wanted so much to be her own person. Maybe that's terrifying, too, the sneaking suspicion that not only does Lila know that, she respects it. Who in the world does Lila Zacharov respect? Hardly anyone. Her standards are so high. How the hell is Daneca meeting them?

It was supposed to be a joke. She saw Lila looking and cracked a nervous smile and said, "What, do you want to kiss me?" even though she knew the answer was yes yes yes. She could still taste zinfandel on her lips (back before the bubblegum, fifteen seconds ago that felt like a year), and she had to lick them, because Lila ordered red and what if she doesn't like white, what if she thinks it tastes bad, what if that's why she says no?

But she didn't. Lila never says no to anything. She pursed her lips and leaned forward slightly, like she was thinking about it, but the crafty smile tugging its way into reality proved that the answer was already--

"Yes."

It was supposed to be a dare - from Lila's side, anyway. She can't have thought Daneca would actually do it, Daneca who's so brave when it comes to what people should be able to do and such a coward about her own feelings. She could see Lila looking at her with the expectation that she'd back down, watching her tongue swipe across her lips with eager anticipation but no real belief that she'd ever get a taste.

Not that it mattered, surely. Lila could have anyone she wanted; what did Daneca matter?

(Maybe she'd misinterpreted that, she thinks now, her breath hitching in her throat as her fingers clenched in the too-goddamn-expensive tablecloth. Maybe she missed something along the way, some sign, some desire, because there's plenty of want in this now, Lila's teeth nudging at her bottom lip in a way that's predatory and playful, but something else, too, not just want but need, fingers in her hair too gentle, that is, just gentle enough, but too gentle to belong to Lila - aren't they?)

It was supposed to be proof. To herself, probably - mostly. Maybe to both of them. But herself for certain, because she's too clever by far to interpret the way she looks at Lila sometimes as anything but devoted. She knows what friends are, she knows what happens when you mix friendship and - this.

She isn't sure Lila knows. Because Lila's never had friends before, has she.

It was supposed to fizzle and pop, to be defused at the clumsy silliness of them, girlfriends kissing in public, drunk not on wine (even though Lila's had a little more, a whole glass and a bit, and Daneca can't even begin to pronounce her red but she's starting to detect the taste of it under the bubblegum) but on the richness of this restaurant, the dark alcoves and tasteful lighting, the caviar that Daneca had been too afraid to eat more than a toothpick's worth of and the sparkling water that enchants her, the meals that are both best and not on the menu and that Lila knows like the back of her hand. Lila ordered for her, but not like that - not like she didn't think Daneca knew how to order or anything, but like she knew her well enough to have a pretty good guess what she'd like and she didn't want anyone to dupe her into anything less than the best.

That's where the problem lies, she thinks muzzily, breaking away for half a moment, half a breath, the back of her neck prickling with the fear that someone's watching. Lila doesn't want anyone to take advantage of her; Lila wants to protect her, to teach her to fight for herself - both. And Lila never settles for less than the best. So - so.

She's been outdone, unwound, taken entirely aback by Lila's skill and precision, by her own desire which seems to have sprung fully-formed from nowhere (but she knows better, knows she's been admiring and shoving it down because of some unspoken _no you can't you know you can't ever_ ). Lila's fingers are still in her hair, and she doesn't know what to do about that, or the innocent girlish flavor of her tongue that doesn't obscure but overlays everything, tinting it pretty and distinguishing Lila, not as untouchable as previously anticipated, but so, so dangerously attainable.

Shaking a little, from the tips of her fingers to the curl of her toes in the deep blue shoes Lila picked out for her with their too-high heels, she rests their foreheads together and tries to breathe. But it's useless, isn't it, because Lila's mismatched eyes watch her from a heartbeat away, and there's no breathing in the face of _that_.

Lila licks her lips. And then she laughs, soft and breathy, too low for anyone else to hear. Her fingers are still twined in purple-tipped hair; her eyes cast aside to admire it briefly, and the way she admires is so transparent, so covetous, that Daneca, right on the verge of composure, loses her breath all over again.

"Do you want to kiss me?" she asks, in her teasing voice, the one like molasses.

Daneca does.

"Yes." Breathless. Shivering. Thrilled.

And so she does.


End file.
